


Sweet Wonderful You

by Novachester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 18:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2160099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novachester/pseuds/Novachester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny's overworked, over stressed and much too tired to figure out what Dean's being so sneaky about. Luckily for him, it's the best kind of surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Wonderful You

It’s been a month since Dean and Benny’s first date; a _really_ good month. They’ve been on a several dates now, mostly within Benny’s home, though with the occasional dinner and movie out. Things are starting to feel solid and comfortable, with routines and habits setting in easily.  
  
Which is how Benny knows something’s up.  
  
Dean’s been acting strangely all day, but with the amount of work piled on Benny’s shoulders due to tax season and an influx of summer customers, fresh faced teens turning in sorry, busted up excuses for vehicles… He just doesn’t have the time to figure out what exactly it is Dean’s up to.  
  
Benny’s decided not to ask about it just yet, though, because while he doesn’t know what Dean’s planning, he knows when Dean’s trying to be sneaky because he’ll periodically hum the Mission Impossible theme, a habit he must think Benny hasn’t picked up on.  
  
Something must be going down tonight, Benny thinks, because it’s nearly 8PM, and Dean has opted to stay at the garage even _later_ than they already have.  
  
“What could you possibly have left to do that can’t wait ‘till tomorrow?” Benny asks, his tone on the cusp between amused and wary. It’s just the two of them left, which is no surprise, considering they were supposed to lock up over an hour ago, but Dean waves him off.  
  
“Relax, I just need to replace the coil pack for that kid with his junk Sunfire,” Dean says, grinning cheekily.  
  
Benny fixes Dean with a discerning stare, but when Dean only waggles his brows in response, he knows it’s probably best if he leaves and lets Dean get into whatever trouble it is he’s digging himself into. Benny’s exhausted enough to let it win over his curiosity… at least for now.  
  
“Alright, if you say so,” Benny says, relenting, and he gathers up his coat and swipes his keys off the reception desk. “See you at home?” He asks. It takes him a minute (plus Dean’s look of mild surprise) to take the slip-up. “My place,” he corrects, huffing out a little laugh. He’s tired, is all. “See you at my place?”  
  
Dean’s grin falls into a softer, charmed smile. He puts a hand on Benny’s arm and kisses at the corner of his mouth, then his lips. “Yeah. See you at home,” he says, bumping his nose against Benny’s.  
  
Benny’s ears turn red and he feels a warmth coil in the pit of his stomach, heavy and comforting. “Alright.”  
  
Once he’s in his truck, Benny turns on the radio. He’s generally an instrumental kind of guy, enjoying wordless melodies and classical tunes, but when “You Make Loving Fun” starts up through the speakers, he decides that this is good, too, and turns the volume up, wearing a pleased little smile the whole way home.  
  
  
Benny gets home around 8:30 and decides not to start dinner just yet. Dean will be hungry after all, and it’s not too much trouble to wait another—what, 40 minutes? It shouldn’t take Dean long just to replace a coil, and it feels like a good night to curl up on the couch and eat together, even if it is the latest dinner Benny’s had in recent (and not-so-recent) memory.  
  
A little over an hour later, he’s just getting ready to call when his cellphone goes off with a text.  
  
 _come back to garage please – dean_  
  
Weird, Benny thinks, but he’s already on his feet and pulling his coat on, damn near forgetting his boots in his hurry. Obviously it’s not an emergency, or else Dean wouldn’t just be texting.  
  
Benny makes in there in record-breaking time, the twenty-five minute drive turning into a ten minute one, and pushes the shop door open a little harder than he’d meant to, the bell above jingling loudly. The first thing he notices is that the whole place is pitch black, save for a distant glow coming from the garage.  
  
“Dean?” he calls out, and he’s met with a relatively calm _back here!_ in response, coming from the same direction as the light. Benny shrugs off his coat and slings it over his arm, walking with a measure of caution towards the garage, a nagging feeling ringing in the back of his mind, telling him he’s forgotten something that Dean hasn’t.  
  
Sure enough, when Benny rounds the corner, he sees the light is emanating from an array of candles set up around the shop, and in the middle, where there should be a vehicle rigged up, he sees a cloth-covered table instead, topped with two covered plates, cutlery and two bottles of Benny’s favorite red wine.  
  
“Happy birthday,” Dean says with a grin, and the realization smacks Benny in the face so hard he just about falls over. Instead, he starts to laugh, lifting his hand to cover his eyes as he does. How he managed to forget his own birthday, even with Dean _clearly_ planning something, is completely beyond him.  
  
Maybe he really is working too hard.  
  
By the time Benny takes his hand away from his face, Dean has already made his way over to him and he’s got his hands on Benny’s hips, grinning ear to ear as he kisses him. “Surprised?” Dean asks against Benny’s lips.  
  
Benny huffs out a very sincere _“Yes_ ,” as even though he’d known there was something afoot, he’d somehow managed to miss this; his own damn birthday.  
  
As he looks into Dean’s eyes, bright and shiny with excitement and filled with such vibrant life, it slowly becomes less and less surprising that he’s been so distracted. How in the world he could ever truly focus on anything else when he’s got Dean, who shines like the sun and keeps Benny just as warm, close at his side.  
  
Dean laughs, breaking Benny out of his internal descent into purple prose of everything that is Dean Winchester. “You waxing poetic in that head again?” Dean asks, moving his hands from Benny’s hips to his shoulders, massaging into the muscle at the same time he kisses him. Benny lets go a sigh from his nose, leaning into the touch, into Dean. “C’mon, you haven’t even seen the best part,” Dean says as he breaks away, cupping Benny’s face and winking before pulling back and turning around, moving towards the table, gesturing for Benny to sit.  
  
Pulling out the chair for himself, Benny sits down and takes a good look at the settings. He can smell the food hidden underneath what appear to be big ol’ salad bowls, and his stomach rumbles like a crack of thunder when Dean lifts up the covering. “Tadaa,” Dean sings, chest swelled and clearly bursting with pride.  
  
Benny smiles bright at the reveal of the full steak dinner complete with vegetables and mashed potatoes piled alongside. “So that’s where my cook book went,” Benny says playfully, to which Dean laughs.  
  
“Wasn’t hard to figure out your favorites. You dog-eared the shit out of it,” Dean tells him, sitting opposite to him and uncovering his own plate. “And this time it’s not burned to shit, and I didn’t spill the wine,” he says with a wink, a throwback to the first date they’d shared together, a night that had been disastrous in all the right ways, and wound up being exactly what they both needed.  
  
Benny smiles fondly. He can remember that night with the utmost clarity, doubts he’ll ever forget the look of mortification on Dean’s face as he stood in the middle of the kitchen, wine dripping over his hands and pooling at his feet.  
  
Benny will never forget that night, or just how deeply in love he could fall so immediately.  
  
“Well, just in case,” Benny says, taking hold of one of the wine bottles and the corkscrew. “Best leave me to pour it.”  
  
“Very funny, old man,” Dean shoots back with a grin, and they each delve into their long awaited late night dinner. They speak leisurely between bites, Benny admitting that he’s been under more stress than he’s wanted to say and Dean explaining the trials and tribulations of sneaking a decent grill, table and a pair of chairs into the garage without anyone else (especially Benny) noticing.  
  
Benny lets out a long, satisfied sigh as he sets his utensils down, stretching his legs out under the table and slumping back into his seat. “Damn,” he says, soft and pleased. “I needed that.”  
  
Of all the things in life Benny considers negligible without offense, food has never been one of them, but in the wake of his stress levels as of late, he’s been sustaining himself to quick store bought meals and a variety of fast food that would put most bachelors to shame. “Thank you, Dean. S’been a long time since I had a surprise party.”  
  
“It’s not over yet,” Dean says, slipping out from his seat. He brushes his hand over Benny’s shoulder as he passes him, but before Benny can turn to observe, Dean tells him, “Close your eyes!”  
  
“More surprises?” Benny asks as he complies, resettling in his seat and closing his eyes, hands resting on the arms of the chair. He can hear Dean shuffling about, followed by the snap and sizzle of a match lighting, and he can’t bite back the smile that tugs at his lips.  
  
Now he really feels spoiled.  
  
 _Happy birthday to you_ , _happy birthday to you.  
  
_ Dean’s not singing, but Benny can hear him humming it, the sound coming closer and closer. There’s the sound of what Benny suspects is the table sliding across the floor, and then suddenly there’s a very firm, familiar weight that drops down into Benny’s lap, drawing a soft _oof_ from him as Dean gets settled atop him. Benny instinctively grasps onto Dean's thighs to help steady him.  
  
“Open,” Dean says.  
  
When Benny opens his eyes, there’s a cake slice with a single lit candle atop it, proud and bright. Behind it, Dean is staring at him with a broad smile, one that makes it hard to focus on the cake. He squeezes Dean’s thighs and lets out a small, slightly overwhelmed little breath.  
  
“It’s red velvet, some kind of chocolate, I think,” Dean says, tilting the plate slightly to inspect the cake. “I dunno, I picked it up at Safeway this morning. More of a pie guy myself, but I saw this in your book.”  
  
Benny never would have foreseen himself feeling quite so emotional over a slice of cake from the grocery store.  
  
“Make a wish,” Dean prompts when Benny remains silent, just staring into the flickering flame.  
  
Closing his eyes, Benny blows out the candle, but the only thing he can think to say for the dying flame is _Thank you.  
  
_ When Benny opens his eyes, he can see the fading twirls of smoke spiraling up from the candle just before Dean sets the plate aside and leans in to kiss him, wrapping his arms around Benny’s neck. It’s slow and sweet, gentle. No one has ever kissed Benny like _he_ was the delicate one, but there’s something in the way that Dean touches him that makes him feel cradled. Loved from the very depths of his soul.  
  
“What did you wish for?” Dean asks, nuzzling at him, kissing along his bearded jaw.  
  
Benny wraps his arms tight around Dean. “For this,” he says against Dean’s skin, sighing. “Just this.”  
  
Dean smiles down at him. "Alright," he says. "I think I can manage that."


End file.
